On Parade
by Sylvie Orp
Summary: Many thanks to 'Sad Lady' for allowing me to borrow Cora for a while. Cowley orders his team to attend the Remembrance Service parade at the Cenotaph. Not everyone is keen.


Cowley gathered as many of his team as he could on a cold November morning - both the backroom boys and girls as well as the frontline officers. After a pep talk which, reading between the lines while working one's way through a verbal maze, seemed to boil down to: we can't win the war, but you've all done remarkably well to win many significant battles; lives have been saved at risk to your own, etc. It was the stuff to feed to battle-weary troops and it went down well.

"As you will realise," Cowley concluded, as his 'standing committee' shuffled numb feet and locked knees from standing for nearly an hour at attention, "Remembrance Sunday is coming up fast, and the 11th happens to fall on a Sunday this year. This is our first year as a cohesive section but CI5, of course, can't parade as a unit, any more than MI5 can for example. But I want as many of you as I can spare at the Cenotaph to remember the sacrifice our armed and civilian citizens made for our country." His audience hoped that Cowley wouldn't get into a 'land of hope and glory' speech; they'd been standing on one spot long enough already and the room was freezing. It was only their colleagues' body warmth that was keeping them from hypothermia as it was. Fortunately Cowley kept to his purpose. "So I want you to march with your former units, whether police, military or other. For those of you from sections who need to keep as discreet as we do, you will be assigned divisions to merge into. I want buttons polished, shoes shining and medals on display. You know that I know who has medals and decorations and how many stripes should be on sleeves, so no false modesty ladies and gentlemen. Any questions?"

He strafed his audience. There were no questions and CI5 were dismissed to general chatter and hubbub. Most headed for the pub.

Bodie noticed that Doyle was quieter than usual after their assignment the following day. It hadn't been anything dangerous and all had proceeded as planned. Bodie allowed Doyle his moment and made nothing of it. However, as the week progressed Doyle's silences deepened and lengthened. Bodie's olive branches of pints and meals were rejected. Doyle said he wasn't good company at the moment, and Bodie couldn't disagree. By the end of the week, Bodie was dropping his mate off home. He'd had quite enough of his grouchy company, but he needed to know one thing before the weekend.

"Look, Ray, we're all entitled to a moody now and then, but you're carrying it too far. Is there anything I've done or said to offend you?"

"Just leave it, ok? It's not you. That's all you need to know." With that Doyle threw himself out of the car before Bodie could ask any more.

Bodie watched his partner's hunched shoulders and rigid gait. There was tension and anger in every movement. Not for the first time that week, Bodie wondered whether he should drop a hint to the Cow.

Bodie pushed Doyle out of his mind the following day as he was looking forward to spending Saturday with Cora. She was his long time friend and some time lover. They had a deep understanding but had never wanted anything permanent between them. Cora dragged Bodie along to an art exhibition that she had wanted to see for ages. Bodie enjoyed it more than he thought, or was willing to admit, and the relaxed day ended with dinner and a bit more. Later, much later, Bodie stared at his bedroom ceiling in the early hours of the morning, Cora asleep at his side. He sighed in frustration as he gazed into the darkness. Cora sensed that her boyfriend was awake and she stirred.

"What is it?" she asked softly, shuffling to a sitting position.

Bodie remained prone, one arm cradling the back of his head. "Ray," he said simply.

"I sensed there was something. Do you want to talk about it?" Cora never pushed.

Bodie sighed again and got up. "Do you want tea?"

She silently followed him to the kitchen, wrapping his dressing gown around her slim frame. The flat was cold. Bodie put the kettle on, then the heating. He made drinks for them both and settled at the table.

"Ray's been in a rotten mood for a week now. I know we're not blood brothers and if he doesn't want to talk, then that's ok. He must know that by now. I know we haven't known each other long. What, six months?"

"Eight," Cora corrected gently.

"Whatever. Surely he knows that I'm not going to go blabbing about anything he tells me."

Cora heard the anger from across the table. "Perhaps it's something personal or embarrassing he doesn't want to voice."

"Well, may be so, but why take it out on me? At least he should talk to someone before he explodes into tiny pieces."

"That bad?"

Bodie sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. It was a gesture Cora was familiar with when her friend was stressed. "I dunno. Perhaps I'm making more of it than I should. But I am worried."

"About anything specific?"

Bodie looked at her, debating. He knew he could talk to Cora about anything and she'd be as silent as the tomb, but he hadn't yet worked it out in his own head. He shrugged. "Cowley," he murmured gently. Cora waited while thoughts flashed across Bodie's eyes. "I may need to rat to Cowley." Yes, that was the nub of it; the bottom line. He may need to betray his partner. He choked on the words.

"Why?"

"He's not there," Bodie tried to explain, tapping his head. "Oh Ray does his assignments, writes his reports, he even stopped me going over the edge of a roof yesterday when a rafter gave way. He's still quick. But …" Bodie sighed again with frustration. There was a 'something' he couldn't put his finger on. Ray wasn't Ray at the moment. Cora waited silently, sipping her tea. "What if someone gets killed because Ray's wool gathering? His conscience would never give him any peace and neither would mine. Someone may die because I'm too embarrassed to go to the Cow."

"Embarrassed, or because you don't have any evidence?"

"The only evidence I could give Cowley would be a dead body."

Cora could see her boyfriend's dilemma. "Is Ray aware of his behaviour?"

"I've made it clear enough through the week. He just tells me to back off. But for how long, Cora? Until someone gets killed?" He looked desperately into her eyes, willing her to have an answer.

"You've offered a chance to talk?"

"The door couldn't be wider open. Ray knows that. I've offered a pint, a meal, a chat here over tea. I've run out of ideas."

"And patience?" she pressed gently.

Bodie nodded sadly.

"I can understand why you don't want to go to your boss, but I can also understand why you have to, Bodie. You know you do. I also know you don't run away from a bad situation." She waited while her friend weighed her words.

"I can't betray a mate …"

"You've already given me a solid reason why you have to."

The pair stared sadly into each other's eyes for a long time. They held hands across the tea cups. Suddenly Bodie got up.

"I'm going to Ray's, whether he's awake or not, and have it out with him once and for all. This can't go on."

"It's 3 o'clock in the morning."

"That's his problem."

Cora could see that her lover was determined. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No. Keep the home fires burning here. We may have a guest staying with us later on."

"I'll dust off the first aid kit too!" Cora smiled tentatively and hugged him. He may play the hard man, but Cora knew the best of him. "Do something for me," she whispered, kissing his cheek. Bodie looked at her. "Be gentle with him!"

The roads were dead at that time of the early morning. Even the milk deliveries weren't about yet. Bodie reached his friend's flat in less than quarter of an hour. He leaned on the doorbell. Doyle answered it in super fast time.

"What kept you?" Doyle asked enigmatically as he made his way back inside his flat.

Bodie was concerned that Doyle was still dressed in the clothes he'd been wearing the day before. He trailed his mate to the kitchen. Without asking, Doyle made tea for them both and settled across the table. Bodie was awash with tea, but made a show of sipping it as Ray watched him.

"So, I'm here now. Either talk to me, or I'll get a priest."

"I'd rather talk to you." However, Ray stopped and stared at his partner. He was unshaven and infinitely tired.

"Have I gone deaf?"

"It's Remembrance Sunday tomorrow," Doyle said out of the blue.

"I know. So?"

"So I tried to get out of it. Cowley wouldn't even let me do the Hen Street surveillance that's been driving everyone to suicidal boredom."

"Is this what all this moody's been about? You not wanting to be on parade? A bit childish, isn't it? We all …"

"Childish? Yeah, I suppose you could say that," Doyle agreed dully.

Clearly there was something else here. Bodie wasn't as patient as Cora. "And?"

Doyle said nothing and got up. Bodie wasn't sure whether to follow him, so waited till Doyle had left before tipping his tea down the sink and loitering in the kitchen. After a while Doyle returned wearing his police dress jacket over his tee-shirt and jeans. Bodie was going to make a comment along the lines of 'very nice', but stopped when he noticed the medal on Doyle's breast pocket. He thought he recognised it, but moved closer to get a better look. It was the Police Bravery Award - the highest honour the Top Brass could bestow on one of their own. Bodie had seen a picture of it in a manual during his initial training in CI5. He stared at his partner.

"Is that what I think it is?" he whispered wonderingly.

"Depends on what you think it is."

"Police Bravery."

Doyle sighed. "I know you're throbbing with curiosity. As soon as I go on parade and everyone gets a look at this, they're going to start wondering, too. I just don't want to talk about it, Bodie. I thought I'd left it behind."

"Cowley did say that you had to wear your medals, Ray."

"So what about yours then?" He wanted to divert his friend.

"Nowt as grand as yours." Doyle waited. "Yeah, I've got some decorations, but they don't go in for that much in the SAS, and I moved too quickly for the Navy to pin anything on my chest."

Doyle felt that Bodie was holding out on him, but didn't press. "So are you going to brag and display?"

"I don't have a choice about one, and I'm keeping shtoom about the other. I don't brag, Ray."

"Sorry," Doyle murmured contritely.

"Is this what you've been gnawing at all week?"

Doyle nodded miserably.

"Come on, you soft sod, you're staying over with me and Cora."

"Cora can't shake you off, then?" Doyle said, trying to joke himself out of a bad mood.

"No. She tried dark glasses and a large hat, but I saw through her!"

The pair drove off in a more companionable silence, Doyle's 'little problem' still unresolved.


End file.
